


Falling Up

by Stephquiem



Series: Going Back [5]
Category: Animorphs (TV), Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dysfunctional Relationships, Excessive Swearing, F/M, Self-Insert, a family can be a teenager a parasite and a robot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-09-17 18:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephquiem/pseuds/Stephquiem
Summary: Cassie quits. Then she goes missing. Then, when the Animorphs finally find her, she's trapped herself in morph to convince one Yeerk that there can be another way. Andthat... well, that's when the real trouble starts.Takes place during #19 The Departure.





	1. New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic--and many of the ones following it for the duration of this series--delves into the nature of the relationships between certain characters. These relationships are not always healthy, or written with the intention of depicting them as such, and one of them is purposefully left undefined.

**_Steph_ **

Living in a house again for the first time in about a year was bizarre in ways I wouldn't have expected. For one thing, it was both too quiet and too loud at the same time. You'd be surprised how used to the sounds of animals you can get--like a weird, growly lullaby. But then Cassie also lived at the edge of town, near the edge of the state park, and you weren't really close at all to any neighbors. Meanwhile, the Kings lived smack dab in the middle of suburbia, surrounded on all sides by other cookie cutter houses. We were technically on the other side of town from the others, but it still wasn't far. We had an actual bed and didn't have to sneak past anyone to take a shower. Probably best of all, we didn't have to subsist on vending machine candy and whatever else we could get for the change we found on the ground.

I was surprised I didn't get scurvy, or whatever else, and honestly wouldn't have been surprised if I gained at least five pounds in the first month living with the Chee. I don't think I'd ever been happy to gain weight before, but then again, being too skinny had never been an issue before I started living in a barn. 

It was a Sunday, a couple weeks after we returned from the Cretaceous, a little after noon. Priton was feeding. We didn't have anywhere we needed to be that day. And God, it was nice. I could get used to this. I had the funny pages spread out in front of me, and I was sitting with my arms folded on the kitchen table, legs splayed out underneath and my torso hunched forward in a position that was definitely going to hurt when I tried to move, but there's something weirdly enjoyable about sitting in a stupid position. The casual lack of caring. And anyway, this was a thing I'd loved doing _before_. Considering how much I craved signs of home sometimes, it was reassuring to see old familiar faces in the newspaper. Dilbert and Wally. Calvin and Hobbes. Charlie Brown and Lucy. It was familiar and weird, too. Like how this universe was a little behind the one I came from. Like how Charles Schulz was still alive and drawing  _Peanuts._ I wonder, what would happen if I tried to tell someone "Charles Schultz will die in February of 2000"? Or if I tried the same thing, but with bigger, global events? How far did the "no spoilers" rule extend, exactly?

Not that it probably mattered. For one thing, I was pretty sure that the whole alien invasion thing would change most things--well, maybe not Charles Schulz getting colon cancer--and I definitely hadn't paid enough attention to world events to be able to tell if there was a difference, anyway.

As I was nearing the bottom of the page I was on, a shadow suddenly cast over the table. Before I could look up, something small and rectangular dropped into my view with a little  _thud!_ on the table, effectively obscuring the punchline for Hagar the Horrible. I picked it up. "What is this?"

"It's a library card," Erek said, in a tone that suggested this was obvious. The card did, in fact, say "Santa Barbara Public Library" on it.

"...To borrow?"

"No, it's yours." Erek looked uncomfortable. I suspect that, almost a year in, he still wasn't sure what to do with me. We probably gave him some terrible whiplash, to be fair. "I figured since you have an actual address now, and you actually have a place to store books... Anyway, you can quit making the librarians think you're some poor teenage hobo." 

I snorted. "Well, thanks." I looked down at the card again for a moment, before a thought occurred to me. "I didn't know you could apply for a library card for someone else."

"Uh, you can't." Erek's hologram expression was sheepish. "You need to be there in person. I didn't think you'd mind."

"Oh." I didn't actually mind. It kind of reminded me of those times that the others had--or would--morphed other sentient creatures. I didn't really see the same kind of moral issues with it as they did--it's more like creating a clone than using someone's actual body, if you ask me, and it wasn't like we were ever doing it for nefarious reasons--but it was one of those things I thought wasn't really worth arguing about. We did enough philosophizing as it was. To Erek, I said, "Thanks. I don't mind, though you should probably ask before you try that kind of thing with the others."

 "Noted. Though I probably won't need to impersonate anyone else to get a library card any time soon."

"Fair enough." I went to pocket the card, only noticing now that my hands were stained from the newspaper. For some reason, this made me smile. "Hey," I said, stopping Erek as he looked like he was about to leave. "You read the paper yet? Keep me company?"

"I've already read most of the news stories," Erek said, sounding amused. Still, he sat down in one of the other chairs.

"So? Read something else." I reached for one of the pages spread haphazardly in the middle of the table--I'd had to sort of dissect the paper to find the comics section--and said, "Here, what about this? You can read all the movie reviews and tell me if anything's worth seeing."

That was how I spent the rest of Priton's feeding--about forty-five minutes of reading the paper with Erek and listening to him read off reviews for  _The Prince of Egypt_ and _You've Got Mail_. It was the new normal--a weird facsimile of my old normal. Normalcy redux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up a bunch of creator peeps that I looked up to as a kid for this before settling on Schulz to use as an example in this, and I'm filing "how all my childhood creative heroes died" under "Most Depressing Shit I've Had to Research For This Fanfic Series." While writing this chapter, I read that Penny Marshall died. I watched a lot of Laverne & Shirley as a kid. 
> 
> Also, in case anyone's wondering, I used [this](https://www.santabarbaraca.gov/gov/depts/lib/myaccount/card.asp) as a reference here. At 14, GB!Steph would literally only need to provide the name of a legal guardian. Erek probably just said Mr. King. Ironically, I've never needed to get my own library card. 
> 
> If you're staying through its apocalypse, you can find me on [tumblr](http://jewlikeruth.tumblr.com/), if you want to question my sanity or talk Yeerk-centric Animorphs discourse--or complain that my Yeerk theories are based on the flimsiest of canon evidence. I'll have you know, only _some_ of my theories are based on flimsy evidence. The rest are just made up whole cloth. Insert joke about female-presenting nipples here.


	2. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally [later](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15279150/chapters/38038214).

_**Priton** _

Here's a secret: They all terrified me.

Don't misunderstand me; I respected them as warriors. I respected Jake as a defacto leader more than I respected the leaders of my own people--he didn't view any of us as expendable, though maybe that was because there were so few of us. Knowing what I knew, maybe that was the way to keep it. I even liked them. Even Ax was shockingly tolerable for an Andalite. Then again, I can appreciate being an alien with an uneasy affinity for humans.

But still. They're children.  _Children._ I don't know what it is about Andalites that makes them think that child soldiers are a good idea. I'll allow that Elfangor didn't really have a choice and there were forces at play that were out of his control, too, but I've also never heard of an adult  _aristh_ before. One would think Andalites would have more consideration for their own children, at least, than they do for other species. That isn't to say Yeerks are more considerate, by any means. But, I mean. Who did we learn it from?

I don't know that adult humans would be less frightening, mind you. They probably wouldn't. But there is something truly horrifying about seeing children--with their limited views of the world and the universe and morality--making life and death decisions. Not that I thought I could do any better. For one thing, I was younger than all of them, technically--at least in Earth years lived, if not in proportion to overall life expectancy. Nine years for a Yeerk is significantly older than nine years for a human--for another my knowledge of how the universe worked was less from experience and more from... well, special circumstances. And I wouldn't have been there with these human and Andalite children if I had any real morals. 

I think the worst part of it all was that I knew they would succeed. Unless something really royally screwed up, they were guaranteed success, and in a way, it almost justified things. The ends justify the means, to borrow a very human expression. It's also a very Andalite sentiment, come to think of it. Little wonder the Ellimist had such an apparent fondness for both. Kind of like how a dog might have a fondness for the stuffed toy whose head it bit off. Or how Andalites say they want to save species, but jump so quickly to genocide. Or how humans claim life is precious, but drop bombs on civilians.

 It felt like there was a connection to made there, honestly, but I wasn't sure I was smart enough to make it.

When Cassie told us she was quitting, she asked me if I understood why she needed to do this. A reasonable question. If anyone should be able to validate that decision, it was the person with all the answers. Though what could I say? It was the right decision. But not for the reasons she would have thought if I told her that. Instead, I didn't tell her anything. Because there was nothing I could say. Because I thought--hoped--that that was what would lead us to the correct outcome.

It's hard to feel like an individual as a Yeerk. It's not really an ingrained instinct. If we develop it, it's probably in the same way we develop most things--from our hosts. Yeerks don't really have an ingrained concept of gender, either. Most of us just accept our host's pronouns out of habit. But then, there I was. Male-identifying even now that I'd traded my male human host for a female one. I don't think developing a sense of individualism is that much of stretch. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why lacking an innate sense of individuality would be appealing to someone like Crayak, though. For a being trying to be the ultimate evil of the galaxy, I was starting to think he might not be very good at choosing his champions. 

It's impossible to know who we'd be without the war, because we barely know who we were before it.

So yes, Cassie. I understand.

* * *

 

**_Steph_ **

If I had to be honest, sometimes I was grateful for Priton. It would have been hard to keep my mouth shut about a lot of things otherwise. It would have been hard, for instance, to search for Cassie when I already knew we would reach her too late, hard to react appropriately when I knew that “too late” was only temporary. But Priton was the master of stoicism, the king of Poker Faces. He never spoke up in meetings unless he had to.

He was very good at hiding, but I guess he’d have to be.

Priton was silent now, as we formed a circle with the others around Aftran and Karen. Neither of us said anything to each other. I think we both understood the gravity of the situation. This moment was bigger than I think anyone else realized. Saying something now might jinx it.

There was something else, too. Something familiar that I couldn’t put my finger on, but was the cause for a growing sense of unease in both of us. Of course, even if we’d figured out what it was, it would have already been too late.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Jake was saying to Karen/Aftran now.

<Sure you do,> Rachel said. <Marco just saved her for me. Isn’t that right, Marco?>

Marco didn’t say anything. Instead, he was demorphing, back to human.

Rachel turned her big, Elephant head to look at Ax. She didn’t look at me. I would let whatever needed to happen happen. I--or Priton, rather--would only intervene if necessary. To Ax, she said, <You’re with me, aren’t you?>

Look, I don’t remember everything. I can’t recite every word that anyone says verbatim. I remember the big things, the “Ram the Blade Ship”-sized things. So I couldn’t say for sure what was supposed to come next, how it was supposed to all play out.

Still, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t like this.

“You can’t let her kill me,” Aftran said, angry again now, maybe at Jake’s hesitation. “Not when  _ you’re _ here harboring your own Controller!” 

For one uncomfortable second, it seemed no one breathed. I couldn’t see the others’ reactions. Priton trained my eyes on the little girl’s index finger, pointed right at us.

Shit.

<The jig’s up.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about writing in first person--or limited third person, for that matter--is that you can only really know what the narrator knows. For instance, GB!Steph doesn't get a lot of insight into Priton's brain, and I can only make her as observant as I am and I'm really not great at reading people. So sometimes when I pick a narrator for a chapter, or section of a chapter, it's with a purpose--usually, I don't want you to know something until later. That said, writing in first person also means that it's hard to hint at the bigger picture because none of our narrators know enough to guess at what the picture even is. Priton's kind of unwittingly tip-toeing around it here, but it'd still take a few leaps in logic for him to get there without the relevant puzzle pieces.
> 
> There's a lot of things I could comment on here. But I think most of it's going to come up a lot, anyway. Also, full disclosure. I don't know who says "the jig's up." It's probably OOCly flippant for either Priton or GB!Steph at this particular moment. But it's one of those things that have been in Going Back for so long that it's just... how it goes and it would feel weird to exclude it. It's like your appendix. Served a function at one point, but now it's just kind of there.


	3. Choices

**_Priton_ **

<I’m demorphing,> I said to the others. I looked past Aftran, at Ax. Or rather, Ax’s tail, which was quivering.

<P-->

<It’s fine.> I sounded much more sure than I felt. Things were definitely _not_ fine.

No one spoke as I changed from falcon to human girl. I felt oddly vulnerable once I stood before them, raising my hands slowly as if in surrender. You forget how small human children are when you have no one to compare them to. Or when they can become any number of deadly beasts on a whim.

“Okay,” I said, once I had finished demorphing .”First of all, Aftran--” I turned to her. “Go fuck yourself.” I heard a surprised inhalation from somewhere to my left. I ignored it. “Second of all--” I turned now to Jake, though I pointed at Aftran. “Whatever happens to me, she’s gotta walk out of here. _She. Is. Important._ ”

Finally, someone spoke up. <It’s true?> Rachel sounded more confused than furious, which I was hoping was a good sign.

I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat. “Yes.”

<Yeerk,> Ax said, with all the expected venom. His tail was rising ominously. Or maybe I would have seen any movement from him that way.

I took a deep breath. “My name is Priton Six-Two-Four. Aftran,” I inclined my head towards her, “please tell these people your deal with Cassie. Preferably before Ax here decides I’d look better split in two.”

I sounded absurdly calm. Internally, I felt like a death row inmate, about to face the chair. How different this was from the last time I'd faced imminent death. How suddenly everything had changed. The last time, I hadn't had a choice. It was either a quick death, or a long drawn out one. A choice between two terrible options is no real choice at all. Here, my choice was to throw myself  on the mercy of these child soldiers. Denying Aftran's accusation would have been a mistake--a very Temrash-like mistake, and, as I had told Steph so long ago, Temrash was an idiot--because it was so very easy to verify.

Of course, that's all not really true. It was justification I thought of later. It makes it sound like I had intentions that I didn't have time to form in the moment. The truth is I was choosing to put my faith in my host. My host and her desire to keep me alive.

Haltingly, Aftran told them the deal she’d made with Cassie--Cassie’s sacrifice for Karen’s freedom.

“We are not all like Visser Three,” she said. She looked at me. “Some of us are just little nobodies caught up in the war.”

“Being a nobody is safe,” I said. “Being a nobody means you can hide. People who get noticed end up on the front lines. Only idiots stick out.”

“Then what’s your story?” Marco asked.

“Oh, I’m definitely an idiot,” I said. “Never said I wasn’t.” I took a deep breath. “I infested Steph the day after her first battle.”

<How is that possible?> Tobias asked. I glanced up at him, briefly. <Steph has been fighting with us that whole time.>

<You’re a traitor.> It was hard to decipher Ax’s tone.

“If you like,” I said, shrugging. Treason was a funny word. It suggests you had a choice in the first place. Plenty of soldiers fighting for their people--be it of an Earth-based region or of an entire species--fight in wars because they choose to. Because they feel a sense of patriotism, or because they believe in the cause, or because the military can give them something they can't find elsewhere--structure, discipline, college tuition, whatever. When one of those people go rogue and switch sides, it makes sense to call it treason. That person broke a promise they made willingly. But plenty of other soldiers are soldiers because they're drafted. They didn't have a choice, and yet the definition of treason was the same. And then there are civilians. The ones who didn't sign up for the war at all, but are still in danger of getting bombed or Quantum Virus-ed or jettisoned into space by PTSD-ridden war princes and boy generals.

It's very tiring being blamed for a war you didn't start. Because it's so rarely _just_ about the actions we  _are_ responsible for. It was the difference between trying to justify slavery and trying to justify our right to exist.

Jake spoke up for the first time. “What does Steph think about all of this?”

I hesitated. “That’s… complicated.” Currently, Steph’s thoughts were a maze of anxiety that I didn’t have the time to sort through. At least in this we were the same.

“Maybe we should ask her.”

“Of course.”

But then Jake stepped forward, hand stretched out, and I had a vision suddenly of a scene just like this. Different place, different boy, different Yeerk, but it amounted to the same, didn’t it? At least I got a choice in my surrender. Not much of a choice, but a choice.

Of course, the real difference was that humanity didn’t depend on my continued survival after this.

I felt oddly resigned. Humans seem to think there’s something honorable in accepting death when it comes, when there’s no way out. It’s always sounded a little too Andalite for my tastes. And anyway, I knew this crowd well enough to know if I didn’t come out of my own accord, they’d get me out the less delicate way. Really, it was the "less delicate way" that I had a problem with, more than anything. It's not as if I'd ever really thought my life was worth very much, after all. It was just that it was the only thing that was ever really, truly mine. You still lock your doors even when you believe you have nothing of value to steal, don't you?

“Ah,” I said. “I see--”

<NO!>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: "Falling Up" is probably the oldest "part" of Going Back. Being a 20 year old, on-going fanfic, Going Back has gone through a lot of development. A lot of rewrites. A lot of adding and removing things. It's occasionally been the backdrop for a lot of AU thought experiments. A lot of the big "set pieces," if you will, of this fic series have their basis in very old ideas. "Paradise Lost" is probably the youngest plot of the bunch--at least, that I've posted so far, and it was conceived back in early-ish 2017. But anyway, pretty much as long as Priton the Traitor has been a thing, he's been caught during the events of #19. Originally, I think it just seemed like that most reasonable time for it to happen. The book's already dealing with shades of grey, why not? Now, I think he probably couldn't have held on much longer, anyway.
> 
> I guess technically "The Impossible Dream" is the oldest, along with the infestation scene in "The Pied Piper," but Falling Up has had the fewest number of drastic changes. It's really only had one. To be fair, though, it was probably the most important change in the series.


	4. Truth

**_Steph_ **

I didn’t mean to fall in love with him.

My head jerked back suddenly, violently, my body stiffening and my mouth opening to--

My jaws snapped shut abruptly. I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest through the fog that descended over my senses again as Priton took back control.

The others were staring at us as Priton slowly unclenched my fists--I hadn’t even realized I’d formed them--and said, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to the others.

<Priton-->

“I know. It’s okay.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Aftran inching away from us, though where she thought she was going, I don’t know. Maybe just _away._

My hands rose to cup around my ear as Priton began to slither out. He didn’t say anything else to me. He didn’t really have to.

I truly didn’t mean to, but here we were. If this moment had come a few months ago, I might have gladly dropped him on the ground and stomped him flat. But I couldn’t do that now. Been there, done that. I didn’t really want to do it permanently this time.

When Priton was fully out of my ear, I drew my hands away. Jake held his hand out to take him, but instead I pulled my hands in close to my chest. An obviously protective gesture, but I didn’t care.

I turned my head to look at the little girl Controller who was still staring at me warily. “Aftran? I’m sorry. He has zero filter.” She made a face that might have been a smile, but was more of a grimace. “But it’s really nice to meet you.” I hoped I sounded sincere. I meant it sincerely. My brow furrowed. “ _Have_ we met?”

Aftran shook her head. “You were ahead of me--Karen--on the infestation pier the day I took her.”

“Oh. Jesus. Sorry.” I didn’t remember. I felt a little sick at that thought, but it must have been one of the countless horrors I’d seen on every Yeerk pool trip. Maybe you could get desensitized to anything. Maybe the mind just had to compartmentalize things when the horror was every day and unavoidable.

Jake cleared his throat, loudly. “You’re voluntary,” he noted. I couldn’t hear judgment in his tone. He just sounded tired.

“We have a deal.” I hesitated. “He helps us, and we… share a headspace, I guess.”

<That can’t be all of it,> Tobias said. <Right? What’s he get out of it if we win?>

I started to speak, but no words came.  I sighed. “What he wants isn’t possible yet.” That was about as good an explanation as I was allowed to give. Stupid Ellimist and his stupid rules.

<You trust the word of a Yeerk?> Ax, of course.

“I trust Priton’s word.” Mostly. When keeping it served his needs. I nodded at Aftran. “I trust _her_ word. And I know if she’s going to keep it or not.”

Jake seemed to consider that. He was looking down at the branch caterpillar-Cassie had attached herself to.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This isn’t the way I wanted it go. It just sort of happened and I’m just… trying.” When still no one said anything, I looked around the group, anxious and unsure of what to expect. Experience told me that they’d let Aftran go. Cassie trusted her. They had a deal. But this wasn’t really like that.

“Erek!” I said suddenly as the thought occurred to me. The others stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “You can ask Erek. He’ll vouch for Priton, at least.” With great reluctance, and Priton wouldn’t want more of the Chee’s help than he’d already asked for, but better that than dead. And Erek's inaction had kept Priton alive this long, I couldn't imagine he'd go back on that now.

I kept staring at Jake, knowing his word on this mattered most. Finally, after what seemed like an eternally long pause, he picked up Cassie, turned, and headed deeper into the trees.

I stood still where I was, not sure what was supposed to happen now.

The others followed Jake. I looked at Aftran, as if that would help.

“Steph?” I turned back to see Jake looking at me. “You coming or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, truly didn't mean for this to become my [fanfiction M.O.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/732855) It's honestly kind of freaking weird. But let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a preteen named Steph. She thought it'd be pretty cool to write herself into Animorphs. Like many a young fanfic writer before (and after, and alongside) her, she decided to take part in the grand tradition of shamelessly shipping herself with every character in turn--but only the guys, because she was so deep in the closet she might as well have been in Narnia. Some time passes. She learns the term "Mary Sue," and gains just enough shame to feel bad about continuing to do the shipping thing--and the self-insert thing--but not enough to stop. Meanwhile, this one hard-to-define relationship between her self-insert and this increasingly complicated Yeerk character is really progressing naturally. But you know what? Enough's enough. That's going too far, okay? It's really unnecessary. She'd been enough of a bad fanfiction stereotype, okay? Let's not get crazy here. And so it didn't happen. For about two years.
> 
> And then... *gestures* _This fucking happened._ You know when a line just pops into your head and stays there? Yeah, that line was "I didn't mean to fall in love with him." I tried. Okay? I tried. Looking back, I think it might be too early for GB!Steph to be dropping the "in love" thing in, but I was exactly this dramatic at fourteen, so it is _painfully_ in character. Some things stay longer than they should because I like them and feel nostalgic about them. Some things, like that line, stay to keep me humble. I can't tell if it's working. I think no other chapter in Going Back generates more anxiety for me when it comes to sharing it with others than this one. This band-aid needed to be ripped off before I could deal with the IC aftermath.


	5. History

_**Steph** _

Priton didn't say anything when I let him reinfest me. This wasn't him getting off scot-free, but it wasn't condemnation, either. It was practical. The easiest way to get home was flying, and without infestation I'd have to carry Priton. He wasn't heavy--he probably only weighed a few ounces at most--he was just... _conspicuous,_ which meant I couldn't really ride the bus with him instead.

I asked Jake if we could morph seagulls instead of birds of prey. When he asked why, I simply said, "Because a flock of seagulls are a lot less obvious than a flock of raptors." 

I suggested it then because I thought the others would feel better if we were closer together. I was pretty sure now that things were going to end okay--or okay _enough_ \--but these were also the people who let Aftran go and still never fully trusted the Yeerk Peace Movement. Acceptance wasn't the same thing as trust. Which was fine. It wasn't like we didn't have time to work on that.

And anyway, it was really about time someone suggested this flying set-up.

Probably the real reason I wanted Priton back for the trip home was that I didn't know what to say to them. It was like being among familiar strangers all over again. For the better part of a year, the only people I'd had to talk to were Priton and Erek, and as maddening as that so often was, and even if Priton said what I was thinking almost as often as he spoke his own thoughts, it was still weird to realize that I hadn't really talked to any of these people since my first battle, which seemed like another lifetime ago now. 

We left Ax and Tobias to watch over Cassie, then flew, mostly silently, toward the Kings'. Like I said, Priton didn't say anything to me, a fact for which I was more than grateful. True, he could have said a lot of things. "Thank you," for one. "I'm sorry" for another. But with Priton, thanks were rare, and apologies were basically unicorns. That said, it could have been worse, I guess.

My window was still open from how we'd left it earlier that day, and Priton flew in to land on my bed while the others followed at what one could only hope was a not-too-obvious pace--not that it turned out to matter that much. We found out later that our immediate neighbors were also Chee. It made sense, when you thought about it, considering how populated the underground park was. When Priton pointed out that this was probably a thing we should have learned when we moved in, Erek had just sort of shrugged and said, "I just assumed you knew." Which, I guess, fair enough.

We finished demorphing first, and Priton waited while Jake, Rachel and Marco resumed their human shapes. I could see my face in the reflection of the mirror over my dresser. Priton was affecting an air that was weirdly business-like. When the others had demorphed, he stood up and went to the door. Out in the hallway, Priton called down the stairs, "Erek?"

There was no response. Priton tried again, and this time, Mr. King poked his head out from the kitchen. "I believe he is downstairs." 

"Could you get him for us?"

Mr. King nodded, smiling at the others who were filing out of my bedroom behind us. After a brief pause, Mr. King said, "He'll be up in a minute."

Jake opened his mouth--presumably to ask how Mr. King could know that--but Priton waved my hand as he started for "his" room. "You'll find out later, come on." 

Pushing open the door, Priton didn't hesitate in crossing the room--past the computer desk that really only we used--to the closet. "This should probably suffice on its own, honestly, but--" He slid open the closet doors to reveal the large briefcase-like box that held the Portable Yeerk Pool.

"What is that?" Rachel asked.

Priton squatted down to open the box. He said, "It's a Portable Yeerk Pool and Kandrona." The lid opened, and we rose so that Priton could more easily heft the PYP out. The pool itself had a cover, to protect the contents during travel I guess, which Priton removed as he set the thing back down. "On your usual model, the Kandrona's good for maybe one feeding cycle." Priton gestured at the steel box perched on the side of the pool. "This one's been modified so it'll last more or less indefinitely."

"I don't know about indefinitely." We turned to see Erek in the doorway, looking bemused. "But probably longer than a Yeerk can live, yeah."

"Steph said you could vouch for this guy," Marco said, hooking his thumb at me. 

"For Priton?" Erek looked at us, and Priton shrugged my shoulders. Erek seemed to think for a moment. "I can say that I genuinely don't think he means any of you harm."

I don't think that was the vote of confidence that Priton was looking for, but Jake said, "Okay. Okay." He sighed, then turned to us and said, "Look, if you're really here to help... okay. I guess as long as Steph's willing, it might be useful to have a Yeerk on our side. Especially since apparently you've been here for ages, anyway."

I don't think there was much insider information that Priton actually knew and could share, but Priton chose not to say so. Probably wise.

"Still," Jake said. "It's probably going to be awhile before we trust you."

"That's fair. It took awhile for me to trust _you_." Priton didn't actually call Jake "Yeerk-Killer," but I'm pretty sure he was thinking it, anyway.

* * *

 

_**Priton** _

The thing about being in someone’s head all the time, and being able to see every thought and feeling they experience, is that sometimes, the lines get blurred. It’s hard to tell where your thoughts end and theirs begin, especially when you’ve been with the same host for awhile, and especially if you get along okay.

A host can’t hide anything from their Yeerk. The Yeerk’s got the advantage there, but it’s not always as easy for us as you’d think, either. Denial is a big thing. Humans are really good at denial--it’s instinctive, I think. Half the time they don’t even realize they’re doing it. I’m sure there’s some kind of evolutionary benefit there, but the thing is this: As long as your host remains stubbornly unaware of something, you can pretend it’s not really happening.

Or at least I could.

When I returned to Steph, we didn’t talk about her revelation. We didn’t talk about why she willingly took me back when I think no one would have blamed her for taking the opportunity to get out of our deal. I don’t think she would have let me die--no, I _know_ she wouldn’t have let me die--but she could have let me live out my days in the portable Yeerk pool. No one would say that wasn’t within her rights. As much as I would have hated it, I might have understood on some level.

I’m not good with feelings, but if I can understand anything, it’s self-preservation.

Maybe under different circumstances we could’ve had an open and frank conversation about it. Maybe if I wasn’t in her head. Maybe if we were on a more even playing field. Maybe. We just had to make do with what we had.

It wasn’t much of a resolution, I suppose, but when are we ever promised those?

* * *

 

**_Steph_ **

The next days were spent watching over Cassie’s chrysalis, waiting for her to emerge. Tobias, Ax and us spent the most time, since we didn’t have school and family to juggle like the others did. 

Priton and I didn’t get a lot of time alone, and I was kind of grateful for that. It was hard to fall back into our normal routine, and it was strange now, sharing him with everyone else. 

Once Cassie was returned home, though, we were left to our own devices for awhile. When it was just the two of us, it was hard to escape the embarrassment and, if I was being honest with myself, the sting of rejection. Not that it didn’t make sense to me. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where Priton’s feelings fell, even if he never talked about it.

We didn’t talk about it, but still, we both knew I was pretty miserable.

The morning after Cassie emerged as a butterfly--and subsequently demorphed thanks to what I was insisting on calling “some real sci-fi mumbo-jumbo”--Priton and I headed to the library. There hadn’t been time since Cassie went missing. There hadn’t been much time to do anything except search, pretend we didn’t know where we would find her, and then worry. About Priton. About how the others would react to him. About how our dynamic surely had to change now. 

Neither of us spoke as Priton headed into the library. It had been mostly quiet between us, honestly. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe a little of both. I suppose he could have thanked me for basically saving his life. But he could have also mentioned  _ why  _ it had gone down the way it did. It was hard to act like it was just the friendship that we struggled to keep up most of the time. There’s not a whole lot of use in pretending to someone who can read your mind anyway.

I expected Priton to head towards our usual sections. On days when we spent most of our time in the library, we usually split the time between the stuff I should have been learning in school and the stuff I wanted to read for fun. It worked out to be a decent enough compromise, especially since for the school stuff I could spend more time on things that genuinely interested me. And Priton was a lot less condescending than other aliens I could mention usually were when it came to math and science.

We always steered away from the history section. Always. “You already know plenty,” is what Priton usually said if I tried to complain. He wouldn’t admit it made him miss Ben, but Priton never avoided anything like he did uncomfortable truths.

And so, when he made an immediate beeline for just that section which we’d been so studiously avoiding for months, I was immediately suspicious.

<What are you doing now?>

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he marched down the aisle filled with books on European history, walking resolutely like he knew exactly where he was going. Though, in retrospect, I guess he must have.

The shelf Priton came to an abrupt stop in front of was situated right next to a long table. I’d seen groups of people crowded around it before, for discussions or studying or whatever, but it was completely empty now. It was only mid-morning on a school day, after all.

My eyes scanned the spines of the books until he landed on one-- _ The Mammoth Book of British Kings and Queens-- _ and pulled it off the shelf without hesitation.

I still didn’t understand what he was doing as he dropped the book on the table with a loud  _ thud!  _ Not until he started flipping through the pages and I caught glimpses of things I recognized. An aching sense of homesickness rose up inside me. I owned this book. I could perfectly picture the well-loved copy, waiting for me at home, with its dust jacket long lost and its bent spine. 

You expect to miss the big things. You know you’re going to miss your family, your friends, your home. The thing you don’t always realize, though, is that it’s easy to avoid something big. It can’t catch you unawares. You can see it coming. It’s the little things that are going to surprise you, because you don’t know to look out for them. 

Priton paused at a seemingly random page--I saw the header “Margaret, Maid of Norway” above a biographical blurb. He pressed my lips into a firm, grim line. <Here,> he said, finally. <You keep whining that I don’t let you read any history. So, here. Knock yourself out.>

I knew he’d given me back control when I could feel the book more distinctly beneath my hand. <Seriously? Why now?>

Priton grunted. <Does it matter?>

Yes. Yes, it did matter.

<Just don’t spend all day on it, okay?> Priton said. <There’s only so much I can take.>

Slowly, as though sudden movements might make him change his mind, I slid out a chair from the table and settled myself down. After a beat, when Priton didn’t say anything more, I drew the book closer to me and started to read.

It wasn’t much, but it was as close as Priton really got to an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GB!Steph can be forgiven for not immediately recognizing a book that she's [read](https://www.amazon.com/Mammoth-British-Kings-Queens-Books/dp/0786706929)\--and which I still personally own--since the edition she read was reprinted as just _British Kings and Queens._ Also I used to be terrible about keeping the dust jackets from my hardcover books and God knows where this one got to by July 2001. Anyway, if you're ever in the market for a history book about the British monarchy that doesn't pretend Scotland sprang into existence in 1603 and "lol, Wales who?" and don't mind that it's 20 years old... highly recommend. That said, this whole scene is anachronistic. Regardless of what specific years you think Animorphs takes place--chapter 1 of Falling Up places this in December 1998, but you should never hold me to that--there's the undeniable fact that #19 came out in July 1998, and British Kings and Queens came out in October 1999. Oops. Oh well, too late now. It's not like I'm writing this note before posting the chapter or anything. Definitely no way to change it now. 
> 
> All that said, herein lies a Personal Easter Egg: In the early 2000s, a group of friends and I used to RP via e-mail, and part of the schtick was that there were portals (or something to that effect?) that led to different places and times. Anyway, one such portal storyline led to a haunted castle in Scotland with a ghost who definitely could not have been Margaret, Maid of Norway, but I'd definitely just read her blurb for the first time when this was happening, so she was the basis for a child-ghost character named Margaret that I still occasionally write some version of to this day. At any rate, this would all be basically some of GB!Steph's last memories from home.


	6. Kindness

_**Priton** _

We let the others fill Cassie in on what she'd missed. Honestly, I don't think either of us had the energy to go through it all again so soon after the first time. Steph said that was pretty in keeping with how breaking big news--like "Steph was a Controller this whole time" or "Elfangor is Tobias' dad"--tends to go. Maybe that's too meta, I don't know. At any rate, I wasn't surprised when Cassie came to find us.

It was a few days later. After we got Cassie demorphed. After the library. We were at home, on a day when most of the others were at school. I heard the doorbell ring, heard Mr. King answer it, but it wasn't until I was heading down the stairs and saw her standing in the foyer that I knew she was there. Still, like I said, it wasn't much of a surprise.

I stopped on the stairs, and for a brief second, we just stared at each other. Finally, I said, "Hi, Cassie."

"Priton?" She sounded unsure, though I wasn't sure if she was uncertain who she was talking to, or if she just wasn't sure that was my name.

I nodded, then continued down the stairs. I didn't stop at the bottom, but said as I walked toward the kitchen, "We're having breakfast, you want some? We've got way more cereal than one human can ever eat."

"Uh, no. Thanks." She followed, her face showing that mildly bewildered expression that I think was becoming the status quo when anyone found out about Steph and my particular situation. I don't think our set-up was even that unusual--well, minus some of the obvious particulars--it's just that most people on the outside wouldn't know about it. "Normal" might have been a stretch. "Accepted" would have been patently untrue. But still. Not unique. Just a very small minority.

I gestured to the kitchen table for Cassie to sit while I pulled out the cereal and milk and fished around in the dishwasher for a clean bowl. Casual indifference throws people off, too. It shifted the power imbalance my way. I wasn't sure how important that was exactly, but it occurred to me that, now that the truth was out in the open, it was time to establish what _my_ relationship with these people was going to be. Steph would be happy to be everybody's buddy, but that wasn't really my aim--or even realistic for me. It's not like a lack of emotional distance hadn't already backfired on me. 

When Cassie didn't immediately say anything, I said, "You've got questions, right? Come on. Go ahead. Ask away."

She seemed to mull this over, debating, I assumed, on where to start. Finally she asked, "Did I do the right thing?"

I raised my eyebrows. To be honest, that wasn't where I expected her to start off. Maybe I shouldn't have been that surprised. "I don't know," I said simply.

"What, really?"

I turned away to get a spoon from the silverware drawer. "If you're asking if you did what you were 'supposed' to do--whatever the hell that means--then sure. You made peace with a single Yeerk at the expense of your own well-being. It's in the script, so to speak." I walked over to the table, filled bowl in hand, and sat across from her. "But if you're asking if this is going to change the course of the war..." I hesitated, contemplated the merits of lying, and then said, "Well, I guess we'll see. But if you want to know if it was _right--_ morally, ethically, whatever--I can't answer that. Because I don't know what that means." I stabbed at the round shapes in my bowl, watching them bob up and down in the milk, more intent on having something else to focus on than actually eating it. "Right according to whom? Whose morals? Whose ethics? Humans? Yeerks? You don't want to know what I think of Andalite ethics."

Cassie seemed to think about this. "Okay. Should I have trusted Aftran?"

"Steph does. Though she also trusts me, so I don't know how much stock you should put in that." I smiled what I hoped Cassie understood as a self-deprecating smile. It was a joke. Mostly.

 "What's your part in all of this, anyway?" Cassie asked, finally. "Why are you here?"

I'd been asked that same question many times. By Steph. By Erek. By the others. It's a reasonable question. If our positions were swapped, I'd be asking it, too. Steph might have figured it out, given our forced proximity, but with everyone else I'd been purposefully vague. It didn't seem like it was vital for them to know the details. It was  _dangerous_ for them to know the details. Freed Controllers were an inherent security risk, after all.

Still, I hesitated to take that route with Cassie. Part of that was because she had just created her own security risk with Karen, but I was also worried she'd just see through me. It's possible I was giving Cassie too much credit--she's insightful, not a mind reader--but I guess it's better to overestimate someone than it is to underestimate them, if those are your only available options.

So, I said, "My go-to answer to that question is usually that I want to help."

Cassie's brow furrowed. " _Do_ you?"

I shrugged. "I mean, I don't want to  _hurt._ But saving humanity as a whole isn't really my end goal. It's just a potential side effect I'm not averse to." 

"That doesn't sound like a good reason to fight against your own people."

I found it kind of funny that no one had pointed out the obvious--if untrue--possibility that I could just be there to sabotage them. It had to have occurred to someone, at least. Maybe they just put that much stock in the idea that Steph wouldn't let that continue. I don't know. Maybe it was stupid to question missteps that worked in my favor.

My cereal was looking unappetizingly soggy by this point. Maybe I should have eaten it instead of using it as a prop for acting like an indifferent asshole. Leaning into it anyway, I lifted the spoon and used it to gesture at Cassie. "Well, why are  _you_ fighting? I mean, as far as you know, your family is in no more danger than anyone else on the planet. You're not fighting to free a loved one like Jake or Marco are. So, what is it? Concern for your fellow human? Wanting to defend the planet? Not wanting Elfangor to have died in vain? With great power comes great responsibility?" 

<What?>

Cassie just looked more confused.

"Never mind. Jesus Christ." I don't know what I was expecting. "Look, none of those answers are wrong. If we lose the war, we're all fucked. That alone's reason enough." I was still talking out of my ass. I knew I was. It's surprisingly easier to just talk in circles until people give up than anything else. Nobody's got that kind of patience if they're not invested in you somehow. Thankfully. And I didn't really expect Cassie to answer the question I was posing. Her personal reasons weren't of great importance me, personally.

Her expression finally seemed to clear, which was my only real warning before Cassie said, "Oh. You're protecting someone, aren't you?"

I dropped my spoon into my bowl, spraying milk onto the too clean kitchen table. Ignoring it. "You know, I don't have all day to talk philosophy with you, Cass. Look, my cereal's gone all soggy." I stood up, prompting her to do the same.  

"Yeah, okay. I'll leave you alone, I guess. Uh, thanks?"

I wasn't sure if she was thanking me for my shitty answers or what. I didn't ask. Instead, I walked her to the door. I pulled it open for her, and then, because I guess I couldn't help myself, I said, "It  _is_ good to have you back, Cassie. I--we're both glad you're okay." I did actually mean that, at least. It wasn't just that I thought Cassie was an important part of the war--they all were, in their own varying ways--but for whatever else she might be or do, Cassie was at least concerned with  _trying_ to be kind.

There's not a lot of kindness to go around in war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Priton thinks you can take your anti-Cassie ideas and shove them up your... _ahem._ She's not his favorite person, or even his favorite Animorph--we'll get to that much later. I'm excluding GB!Steph from that ranking for obvious and non-obvious reasons--but in this house we love and appreciate Cassie.
> 
> I don't know, but I feel like maybe someone should at least pay lip service to ethics before the David Trilogy. Priton is probably a bad choice. Also I can't decide if he's being one hundred percent serious when he says he doesn't know what morality is, or if he's just being a pain. Both are pretty in character. It might be both.
> 
> Tune in next time for the answer to the question "What the hell am I even going to do about the David Trilogy? Fuuuuuck." It'll be an adventure. Also, for someone who's been writing an Animorphs fanfic for twenty years, I'm remarkably awkward about writing canon characters.


End file.
